Call Temp Agency'
by Shuvcat
Summary: How the Mayor came to write that memo in his dayplanner.


## 'Call Temp Agency'  


### by Shuvcat (c) 2000

##### Why did the Mayor have that memo written in his to-do list in "Bad Girls"? What happened to the secretary Carol that he called seven episodes earlier in "Band Candy"? Do I obsess too much?? It's dark. Just read it. :)  
_Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ and all related characters, names, ect, belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the WB. Storyline is copyright me. No infringement is intended by this work of fiction. 

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** Carol Post, blonde, cute, twenty-five, had a crush on her boss. At her age, she was too old for a schoolgirl's crush. It was nothing she would ever ever act on. He had taken her to dinner once, a business meal, and she had duly noted the wedding band on his finger. So he was married. Carol had never seen Mayor Wilkins' wife, never even heard the Mayor mention her name. But Carol was a good girl and a good worker, and had long ago resolved never to get involved with married men. She knew it could only lead to trouble. He was so kind to her. He paid her well, and she had all sorts of benefits she could never get at another job. He talked to her a lot, laughed and joked. He was sweet. And he recognized what a good worker she was. She had already gotten her salary raised twice. He called her his girl Friday. Couldn't ask for better help, he said. He was older -- Carol wasn't sure how much older, but she knew it was old enough -- but God, she thought he was handsome. But he was, as she constantly reminded herself, married. Lucky girl, whoever she was. So she kept right on running errands and taking messages and delivering mail and filing documents and shredding them -- she spent an awful lot of time at the shredder, actually -- and keeping the office clean. He was very persistent on that point. The office had to be neat all the time. There was a janitor, of course, but Carol often went in with a duster and neatened up things herself when she had time. It was during one of these dusting errands that she happened across the cabinet. The Mayor's liquor cabinet was always kept tightly locked. She would run the duster over its doors, wondering what was inside...but a good secretary didn't snoop and didn't ask questions. On this particular evening, however, he had rushed out in a hurry, and after some hours she had gone about dusting like usual, and she entered his office and found his cabinet unlocked. Standing open, in fact. Carol stared. The duster fell out of her hand. Her first thought was that all the gruesome things inside had to be fake. Perhaps he was a collector. These things looked like props from movies. Horror movies. There was a mummified skull -- several body parts, in fact -- scrolls and amulets; an odd-shaped, peaked box; another shrunken head, hanks of hair, a voodoo doll, a jar holding a small boy's heart, another jar with something that looked like a fetus...... "Working late, are we?" Carol jumped, startled. She was aware her breathing had become labored, and the smell inside the cabinet was filling her lungs like water. "Mr...your Honor..." Mayor Wilkins was standing on the other side of the open cabinet door. For the first time Carol realized how tall he was. He seemed to tower over her as he calmly shut first one door and then the other, locking them securely. He turned to her, and she was only half relieved to see him smiling. "I....I was dusting," she got out. "Very industrious of you." He was standing in front of her, between her and the office door. "Carol, how long have you worked for me?" Carol swallowed, her mouth dry. "Th-three years, sir." "Ah." He nodded, eyeing her. "Have I ever taken you to dinner?" Carol blinked, confused. "Dinner? Uh, well, yes....once." He folded his arms, leaning against a sidetable next to the cabinet. "Oh, but that was just a business luncheon. I've never really taken you out on the town, have I? I don't think I have." He was talking so calmly. Like she hadn't just barged in and found something horrible in his office. "Do you think," he went on, "that if we went to dinner together -- just the two of us, mind you -- that you could find it in your heart to forget all about what you saw here tonight?" Carol didn't understand. "I....I--" "Carol." The Mayor unfolded his arms, and then he did something unexpected. He reached out and took her hand. "I really, really can't stress how important this is. Can you imagine how it's going to look if word gets out that I've got stolen movie props in my office?" He looked up at her, and the look in his eyes was almost pleading. That snapped her out of her frozen stance. "Stolen?" He gave her a sheepish smile. "Ever see a film called _Nosferatu_? Oh, I love that movie....a classic. Can you believe the studio was letting all this great stuff rot in their basement? Golly, I tell you, when I found out I was shocked. Shocked!" He hadn't stopped holding her hand, and was rubbing her fingers in a near caress. "I offered to buy, but the fool wouldn't sell. Can you imagine? So I hired a fellow to steal them." He smiled beguilingly at her. "Well, I couldn't just leave pieces of film history rotting away, could I? History is a grand thing. And I love that movie....well, I guess I've said that already." He chuckled. Carol loved his laugh. It was so unbothered, so free. "So there you have it. Not only is the Mayor of Sunnydale a thief, he's a scary movie buff as well. Stop the presses! Of course that's not such a bad thing to people like us--" he was still massaging her hand "--but to the voters, some of whom are extremely right-wing, well, that might be a bad thing. So I've got to keep it under wraps." He looked up at her with a quasi-furtive gaze. Carol was having a hard time thinking -- mostly because of what he was doing to her hand -- but also because she had, actually, seen the silent horror classic herself, more than once. She swallowed hard. "Mayor--" "Call me Richard." He grinned at her. Carol surrended a nervous smile. "Oh, I couldn't! I mean...that is..." The Mayor laughed. "Gave you a start, didn't I? Your hand is as cold as a cucumber!" He was still rubbing her fingers as if to warm them up. His wedding band glinted in the light. Carol wished he would stop....and wished even more that he wouldn't. "Oh, it's only....I like movies too.... I've never seen real movie props before," she blurted out, letting relief flood her. Props -- they had to be, of course, just like she'd first suspected. She had heard such strange rumors about the man she worked for, and had admitted such bizarre people in to see him at times -- and some of the messages he'd asked her to deliver were of the near-cryptic quality -- but of course, none of it had really registered with her until she'd seen all that stuff. Seeing it had given her the creeps, particularly that jar with the fetus....it looked so real....and she didn't remember any pickled fetus in _Nosferatu_...... "Oh, really?" The Mayor straightened, finally let her hand go. Carol was almost sorry. He unlocked the cabinet again and opened the doors wide. "A fellow movie buff, huh? Would you like to see? There's a funny story behind every one of these old relics." He reached in and brought out the mummified skull. "This for example....my mother-in-law." Carol burst out in a short laugh. The Mayor grinned. "Just kidding. A generic skull, they were strewn all over in the film. But here's a piece of the beast himself." He touched a threadbare, withered arm that had a skeletal hand attached. "Nosferatu's remains. All that is left of him after he meets his demise in the sunlight. Here's a lock of hair from the fair, doomed Ellen. Here's the Book of Vampires itself." He motioned to an ancient-looking leatherbound volume way in the back, the title long since worn off the binding. Carol caught sight of a small brass frame, containing what looked like a tintype photograph of a woman in an old-fashioned, dark colored frilly dress. The woman's black hair was in thick locks around her slender neck, and she gazed into the camera with something just above and beyond the usual deadpan expression typical of most old-time photographs. Her eyes were large, black...and slightly mad. "What's that?" Carol dared to ask. The way he gazed at that photograph gave her fresh chills. "A still," he said after a time, as if prompted. "A movie still of Miss Greta Schroeder. Marvelous actress." His voice had changed, it was suddenly lower, so different from his usual cheerful tone. Carol was suddenly very apprehensive again and couldn't put her finger on why. Part of it was because she really liked how his voice had dropped through the floor just now..... she forced herself to think of his wife. She dared herself to look again to that jar, with the tiny human-shaped form floating in liquid. "What...what part of the film is that from?" she ventured in a tiny, quavering voice. The Mayor turned his head and looked at her for a good long time. His expression was contemplative....almost calculating. All at once he smiled -- a sweet surprise of a smile. "You're a strikingly lovely woman," he said. Carol shivered. "What?" "I hope that's all right with you." He'd reached out and touched her hand again. His hand was uncommonly warm. "My telling you that. You're not going to sue me for sexual harrassment or anything like that, are you?" Carol shook her head unconsciously as his hand closed around hers. "Because I can't, for the life of me, understand why a smart, pretty young woman such as yourself doesn't have more important things to do with your nights than dust my office. You don't, do you?" He looked almost sympathetically at her. "Don't you have a family to go home to? Isn't there some young buck missing your attentions?" "No, sir," she whispered. It was true -- all her family was back in Seattle, and her work didn't leave much time for socializing. "I don't -- there's no one. I'm not seeing anybody right now." She didn't mean it to sound like a come-on -- and a pathetic one at that -- it just came out. "What a shame." The Mayor shook his head mournfully. "Such a pretty face. Prime of your life. With all your considerable assets. Heck of a typist too. You'd have made someone such a good wife." He was massaging her hand again, and this time there was no mistake about it, he knew what he was doing to her. His voice had softened and his thumbs traced the lines of her palm gently, and Carol felt a warm flush coming over her face. "At the absolute least....you deserve a dinner." He looked at her, and his intent was clear in his eyes. Carol's knees went weak. She couldn't believe this. He was asking her out! "What about -- what about your wife?" she whispered straight out. A huge and somewhat subversive smile spread over his face. "My wife," he nodded as he shut the cabinet door with his other hand. "This is one time....I don't think she would mind one bit." 

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"Want to drive us, Al?" the Mayor asked one of the men who were constantly hanging around his office. "C'mon, son...there's a free meal in it for you." He grinned at the young man in the trenchcoat. Brightening, the newly appointed driver followed along behind as the Mayor and Carol exited City Hall. They were driven to one of the nicer, quaint restaurants in the city's upper crust district. He urged her to order anything she wanted. He had wine and candlelight brought and paid the violinist to play her favorite songs. He was sweet and flattering and acted nothing like a man who was about to cheat on his wife. Carol drank just enough wine to relax, to get her mind off what she was doing. The restaurant, nice as it was, was near deserted at this late hour, so no one would see them together. After some time he finally called for the check, and they left, getting into the limosine he regularly rode in. Carol had been in it once before, on that other business luncheon trip, but it had been filled with city officials then. It seemed huge and empty now. The Mayor seated himself and looked at her, hesitating out on the walk. "Well?" He offered his hand, smiling genially. "Come on." She really liked his smile. Letting her last bit of inhibition go, she climbed in with him and the driver shut the door. They took off, driving along the dark city street. Carol wondered where they would head now; to a hotel, or to wherever his home was. She had never been to the Mayor's house, wasn't even quite sure where he lived. She looked across at him, and caught him staring at her. He beamed. "Have some more wine?" he offered politely. The bit she'd had in the restaurant wasn't nearly enough. "Yes, thank you," she answered. He produced a bottle from a small wet bar installed in the back. "What the hey," he said. "1979. The very best. You've been a good secretary, Carol. A great help to me and to this city. You shouldn't feel ashamed at all to have at least one special night." He grinned at her as he poured her a glass. Carol took it gratefully, swallowing it down. It was near midnight, she was used to working late hours, but not to eating so much...and not to drinking so much either. She hid her face with the glass as she stifled a yawn. The Mayor seemed to notice. "Why don't you sit over here?" he asked, motioning to the seat next to him. Carol had been waiting for him to ask. With what she hoped was a coy smile she got up -- almost fell over, the car was moving so much -- and sat down beside him with a thump. "Oh--" she giggled. "I think....I may have had too much to drink," she confided. She had ended up closer to him than she'd intended, and his arm was already around her. "Do you feel sick?" he asked. His voice was so nice. He was really concerned about her. Carol shook her head. "Nope. I feel...." She giggled. "I feel really evil, actually." That got a grin from him. "Nothing wrong with that. I deal with evil people every day. Have some more wine." She did. The added alcohol made her head light, she felt so warm and comfortable....and absolutely no qualms about resting her head on the Mayor's shoulder. She looked down and realized he was holding her hand again, the one that wasn't clutching a wine glass, and he was massaging it just like before. She felt very safe; her whole body felt amazingly warm and fuzzy....especially her skull. He was stroking her hair. "That's nice," she murmured. God, she hoped she didn't fall asleep on him before.... The car drove on and on. It passed block after block and finally neared the edge of the beach outside town. The car came to a stop at the water's edge, and the engine stopped. The headlights went out. Carol only barely registered the ceasing of motion. She moved her head against him, mumbling. Were they here? She was so sleepy....it was so dark..... The Mayor kept stroking her soft blonde hair, gazing at her face to make sure she was asleep. "Al," he called quietly to the driver. The front door opened, then slammed shut. Sand crunched as the driver walked around to the back of the car, opening the door. The Mayor looked at his driver, whose young boyish features were now twisted in the scowl of a hungering vampire. "Careful," he cautioned as the vamp climbed in next to the near-unconscious girl. "That's it....don't hurt her too much, now." With the hand that was caressing her hair the Mayor gently tilted the girl's chin back, exposing her soft, tanned neck. The young secretary stiffened in his arms as the vampire bit her throat and began to drink. Her arm jumped in reflex, and she uttered a soft moan. Mayor Wilkins held her twitching hand still, calmly rubbing her limpening fingers. "I really hate to do this," he said softly. "She's such a good secretary." His fingers moved down to her thin wrist, lingering over her pulse as it grew fainter and fainter. . End 

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